NED
by marauderX
Summary: N·E·D (n-e-d) 1. A name for a man who doesn't own a business suit 2. An acronym for Not-Engaged-Depression In Molly's case, it was the second one.


"And then he proposed!"

A flurry of screams filled the small café booth as Lucy Weasley pulled her left hand out from under the oak table to display a shiny gold band, inlaid with shimmering diamonds that would make girls swoon. In fact, Molly Weasley, Lucy's older sister, noticed Anna Webber, Lucy's best mate from their Hogwarts years, hunch over a bit before sitting straight upright – a symptom Molly had seen many times at St. Mungo's when patients fainted slightly.

Molly took a moment to admire the beautiful ring on her sister's left ring finger before grabbing a flute of the expensive champagne that this particular wizard café was known for. She looked around as the rest of her party began fluttering around the ecstatic Lucy. While this was a particularly quaint café during the day, the owners of the building had done a marvelous job at transforming it into a relatively quiet bar after eight. Molly drained the flute of champagne as her sister's shrieking entourage began to scream at a decibel she wasn't sure was normal, and then stood up, deciding that champagne would not be enough to get her through this night.

It's not that Molly wasn't happy for her baby sister, but since Lucy had only broken off her previous engagement not six months beforehand, Molly decided that celebrating this occasion would soon be overshadowed by another occurrence of ring giving. Of course, there was also that twinge of jealously she was trying to supress, but Molly told herself that it was normal.

After all, wasn't Lucy the one with the handful of engagement rings in a jewelry box on her dresser? It made sense that Molly, having never had a proper boyfriend, would be slightly jealous of her sister. Or at least, that's what she told herself as she sat down on a bar stool and set the emptied champagne glass down on the counter. With the clink of glass against wood, the bar man had turned to her, his hands occupied with drying a large mug.

"What can I get for you love?" he asked jovially.

Molly noticed that the man's jaw was slightly off center and that as a result his smile was probably crooked, a fact verified only seconds later when he grinned.

She sighed and glanced over to her sister, who was still gushing over her newest beau. "I'll have your strongest firewhiskey, three shots please."

"Well now, let's not have all the fun now! Don't you want to stagger that through the night?"

Molly turned back to the man and grimaced. "You see that gaggle of shrieking women over there?" The bar man nodded and Molly continued. "That's my sister at the center, with the shiny rock on her finger. Third engagement…"

The bar man shrugged and set a shot glass down on the bar counter. "Three engagements isn't that bad."

"This year."

"Ah. And you're attempting to drown in alcohol because…"

Molly shrugged and her blue eyes watched mournfully as the bar man poured the clear drink into the small glass. "Sometimes I just wish that I was the one that got the gorgeous ring and the declaration of love."

"Ah," the bar man said knowingly. "You're suffering from NED." Molly gave him a curious look so he elaborated. "Not the name! You're not a man who doesn't own a business suit! Capital N.E.D. Not-Engaged Depression. I've seen my fair share of unengaged women pass through here and let me tell you, alcohol does not help."

Molly shrugged as she grabbed the shot glass full of firewhiskey. "Does it hurt?"

"Do you count a massive hangover, a possible blackout, and multiple counts of violent vomiting as hurting?" he asked, leaning against the bar counter.

Molly took a moment to look at the man properly. He had light brown hair and shining green eyes. He had a few freckles on his nose, but they were faint. He seemed of average build, and if she had to guess, he was in his late twenties or early thirties. Then she thought back to the question he had just asked.

"Nope!" Molly then downed the shot, grimacing as the fiery liquid raced down her throat. "Bloody hell, I forgot how disgusting that is."

The bar man laughed. "I tried to warn you. Anyways, what's your name?"

"Molly. And you?" she asked subtly pushing her shot glass back over to him.

"Gregory. So Molly," he said nonchalantly, "why exactly is the great big green rage monster whose name is Jealousy running around your head today?"

"I'm not–"

"You're suffering from NED. You're jealous."

Molly frowned and crossed her arms. "Well, if I'm going to answer your questions, I'd at least like another drink." Gregory obliged and passed her a refilled shot glass. With one fluid moment, Molly threw back the glass and then slammed it against the counter. "Merlin, that burns. Anyways, I think it's just that Lucy gets everything handed to her. She got offered a position at the most prestigious wizarding modelling agency when she was still 16, our parents are always so proud of her accomplishments, no matter how trivial they may seem, and almost every single month, she has a new boy trailing after her, not realizing that it won't last more than seven months."

"And you…"

"Well I became a Healer, didn't I? Wanted to make my parents proud. I was even Head Girl, but we found out the same week that Lucy was getting signed to that modelling agency. Guess making Head Girl isn't on the same radar." Molly paused and gestured for Gregory to refill the shot glass. "Then when I graduated Healer school, top of my class, mind you, Lucy had just gotten engaged for the first time _and_ landed an ad campaign with Sparks, that high fashion robes company."

Downing the next shot, Molly gave Gregory a pleading look. "It's not that I don't love her, it's just that sometimes I wish that it wasn't all about the Lucy show. Lucy has this, Lucy has that, Lucy found Mr. Right. Why can't I find Mr. Right? Do you think mine was hit by the Knight Bus?

Gregory laughed and subtly grabbed Molly's shot glass. "Well, you're a Healer, right? You must have some potential prospects when it comes to Mr. Right. Merlin bloody knows that smart girls make the best life partners."

Molly gave him a wry smile. "You would think, but whenever it slips out, they always put on airs and try and make themselves more interesting than they actually are."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know," Molly sighed, wracking her brain for an example. "Oh! Well I've had someone tell me they were a moon archaeologist, one was a dragon wrestler, another was a Russian assassin–"

"Spanish," Gregory interrupted.

Molly paused for a moment before scrunching up her eyebrows and pursing her lips. "Excuse me?"

"I'm a Spanish assassin," Gregory explained, his face lighting up in a teasing smile. "Well, not technically an assassin. For the past few years I was just hell bent on taking my revenge against the six-fingered man who killed my father, and I was able to avenge my father's death last year."*

Molly stared at him for a moment before snorting out a laugh. "You're a bar man."

"It was very strange, having been in the revenge business for so long, and then when it was over, I didn't know what to do with the rest of my life."**

"So you became a bar man."

Gregory grinned wider. "What can I say? The art of pouring drinks always called to me after exacting revenge against my father's murderer."

Molly snorted again. A strand of her vibrant red hair fell onto her face and she quickly pulled it back behind her ear to study Gregory again. He was leading her on about something; something that he thought she might know. Then everything clicked.

"That's the plot for Inigo Montoya in _The Princess Bride_ by… Oh Merlin, I forget his name…"

"William Goldman."

"That's it!" Molly cried, slamming her hands against the table. "My mum used to read that to my sister and me when we were children."

Gregory smiled. "So not only are you smart and beautiful, but you're well-read too. Those bleeding liars really missed out on something amazing."

Molly felt her cheeks redden and she put her head down. "I should probably get back to my sister," she said quietly. "It seems as if those drinks are getting to me."

She could've sworn that Gregory's smile had faltered as he nodded, but with a second glance, he seemed as happy as he had been not a moment before. Molly got up slowly and used the bar counter to keep herself up in case her body decided to over compensate for the alcohol and send her into a frenzy of drunkenness, but before she could take more than a few steps, she heard her name. She turned to see Gregory holding out a napkin with black letters on it. She took it from his hand and read the 10 digits written in carefully applied ink. Molly turned to him questioningly.

"I've got a phone, at my apartment. Should you ever need to call and rant about your sister's new 'Mr. Right,' you can count on me."

Molly smiled and held the napkin close to her chest. "Thank you, Gregory," she said sincerely. "I really appreciate it."

"Anything for a NED sufferer," he replied easily.

Molly turned back to her sister's table and walked over, pocketing the small square with a smile.

* * *

" _Healer Weasley to the front desk, Healer Weasley to the front desk_ ," the loud intercom blared, startling Molly as it always had.

She wiped the sweat off her brow as she quickly pushed the needle of the IV into her elderly patient's arm. Although potions were normally administered orally, the Wizarding Hospitals of Europe had put out a report three years prior that outlined the benefits of potions being administered through IV, and Molly had petitioned St. Mungo's to buy the supplies needed. Now Molly had been at the man's bedside for a good three minutes already, trying to find his hidden vein.

Usually, one of her interns would have been tasked to do it, but the healing business had taken a large decline after the Second Wizarding War, and even in Molly's graduating class there were only ten witches and wizards. Interns were hard to come by as of late. As soon as she was sure that Mr. Callahan was comfortable, Molly scurried off to the front desk. Usually the receptionists were able to stall whomever was calling her long enough to give Molly a few minutes of leeway. So she stopped by the third floor bathroom to wash her hands and make sure that her flaming red hair was truly up in her normal bun before making her way down to the front desk. On her way, Healer Lupin caught up to her and stuck up a conversation.

"Wotcher, Molly!" he said brightly, winking his purple eye at her.

Molly smiled back at him and bumped him slightly with her shoulder. "Teddy. How's your day been?"

"Bloody awful, innit? It's been bloody slow."

"You really need to start using better vocabulary, Ted," Molly smirked. "You're a Healer now. People don't want their Healers saying the word 'bloody' every other word. I don't know what you were doing as an auror, but changing careers also means changing the way you accentuate your sentences."

Teddy rolled his mismatched eyes and sighed. "Right! Will do, Molly-O! Anyways, Mrs. O'Riley in 307 needs to be checked on."

"And you can't do it?" Molly asked incredulously. "I put a good word in for you with my supervisors, Ted. Please don't skive off on your duties."

"I'm not skiving off, Mols. But I have reservations at that fancy new diner on Diagon Alley, and tonight's the night!"

"You've got the ring, then?"

Teddy smiled sheepishly and blushed. "Yeah. Uncle Harry helped me pick it out. Hopefully Vicky will like it."

"Victoire will love it, Ted," Molly said softly, the sting of another engagement knowing at her NED jealousy.

Since her interaction with Gregory the barman, Molly had accepted that she was afflicted with NED. Even now, a smile began to tug at her lips as she thought of that night. His napkin was still at her house, neglected on her kitchen counter. Lately she had been working late at St. Mungo's and hadn't gotten home early enough to finish her paperwork, sleep, _and_ call Gregory. As she neared the front desk, she bid Teddy farewell. She greeted Mary, the receptionist, and grabbed Mrs. O'Riley's file, flipping through it as Mary directed her to a Mr. West in the waiting area. Molly thanked her quickly before walking over to the waiting area, her head buried in Mrs. O'Riley's file.

"I'm looking for a Mr. West," she said, without looking up from the charts in front of her.

A figure stood up from a chair and made his way towards her. Molly glanced over the rest of Mrs. O'Riley's file before closing it and looking up. To her surprise, a familiar face greeted her.

"Gregory!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled sheepishly and looked at the ground. "I didn't know if I was being too forward that night at the bar. When I gave you my number, I meant that you could call me for a date."

"Oh, you weren't too forward at all!" Molly said quickly, smiling brightly. "I've just been really busy at work. I'm sorry, I would have called you the moment I had some time."

Gregory smiled at her and put his right hand in his pocket. His left was behind his back. "Well, now that I've got you, would you like to go out some time?"

Molly blushed and cast her eyes downwards. "I would love to."

"Brilliant! Because it would've been awkward to have brought this and have been shot down," Gregory said, bringing his left hand out to present her with a small rectangular present.

"For me?" Molly asked, taking the present and looking over it.

She quickly ran a finger between two parts of the wrapping paper to rip off the tape and unwrapped it. A small brown book stared up at her. She turned it over and beamed at the golden writing on the front cover.

" _The Princess Bride_ by William Goldman," she laughed. "Let me guess: you feature heavily in it?"

Gregory chuckled as well and ran a hand through his light brown hair. "Yes, I'm a pretty important character. So, now that I've given you a present, when should we meet up?"

Molly clutched her new book to her chest and smiled. "I take lunch in 15 minutes. Would you mind waiting for me?"

"As you wish."** 

* * *

**A.N.:** The paragraph with the single asterisk (*) next to it is talking about Inigo Montoya – a character who is not mine, but William Goldman from his book _The Princess Bride_. The lines with the double asterisks (**) are slightly changed or direct quotes from William Goldman's book _The Princess Bride_ and it's film adaptation directed by Rob Reiner.


End file.
